Blind Love
by duckie lover 151
Summary: Boundaries start breaking down as a social class war looms closer. Steve/Marcia Soda/Cherry
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, readers! Gotta love the surprise stories, right? This was a request from another author on this site by the name of** BrokenAskeus. **I'm not entirely sure how long this will go or where this story will end up (we're still working out the details now) but I wanted to get right on writing chapter one. So, buckle up for the adventure, I guess. (:**

 **So. Wow. This story got really dark, really fast. One chapter in, and I have to give a self-harm warning. Seriously, if you fear you're going to be triggered by this, or at any time start getting anxious, please do yourself a favor and walk away. Readership be damned. There will be no hard feelings.**

 **Chapter One**

Marcia drew in a deep, shuddery breath, letting her head fall into her hands. Her room had never seemed so small, but suddenly it was like she couldn't get enough air.

Keeping her eyes closed, in case the walls really _were_ closing in on her, she reached one hand up to fumble with the top button on her shirt. It was March now and really too warm to still be wearing sweaters, but she only had so many long-sleeved tops, and anything else was out of the question with her wrists looking the way they did.

The top two buttons undone, Marcia stilled, opening her eyes again. She rarely thought about her 'situation' so frankly. But she had gotten to the point where she had to accept that, yes, she did have a situation. There was too much physical evidence to pretend there was nothing wrong any longer.

Though her eyes felt unnaturally hot, she didn't realize she was crying until she saw the first tear take the plunge and create a tiny stain on her skirt. She fixated on that spot, trying to block out everything else. She took another deep breath, certain that if she could calm her breathing, everything else would fall into place behind it. She took one breath after another, trying to ignore the way her hands were just itching for the bag not a foot behind her on her pillow.

Marcia didn't straighten up until she was sure she looked composed and put-together. And staring into the mirror on the desk in front of her, the only thing out of place was the redness of her eyes. But that would soon fade too. All she had to do was keep breathing.

She stood and exchanged her seat on the bed for a seat on the chair at her desk. Just a few steps away from the bag behind her, but still, the distance was empowering. She could do this. She just wished she could pinpoint when it started.

She had been in her room, on a night very much like this one not long ago, when she'd first realized she was doing it. Marcia had sat down in front of her mirror, about to brush through her hair for the night, hoping it would calm her as she thought things through. She couldn't deny it, she was stressed. Randy had been so distant and stressed himself lately. She could tell something was going on, but he wouldn't tell her what. Cherry was getting similar treatment from Bob, making her a real killjoy lately, too. And she couldn't remember the last night she hadn't fallen asleep to the sound of her parents arguing.

She hadn't realized it at first, but she'd begun dragging the teeth of her comb over her wrist as her thoughts swirled in her head. Marcia had been frozen in horror the first time she'd realized what she'd done, but it had left nothing but an angry red line across her skin. It would fade. She was safe. That feeling of safety was her first pitfall.

It had all gone downhill from there. She soon learned that the little pricks of pain brought on by dragging the forked surface of her comb across her skin was incredibly calming. It was sick, she knew, but it flew out of her control so quickly. Now she wasn't sure she could stop even if she wanted to. And did she?

If it wasn't the comb, it was something else. She'd taken to bring her knuckles up to her mouth and subtly biting down in such a way that everyone else would think she was simply resting her chin against her palm as she pondered something. But when she took her hand away, there would be bruise-like red dents littering her fingers, from the pressure of her teeth.

She knew there was something wrong with her, but who could she tell? The fact that she was getting relief from pain… it would get her locked up in the loony bin in no time.

And yet… Who was she hurting, really? It was hardly like her life was in danger, and so many times in the past week alone, her little tactics had successfully driven away tears as she felt the stress gearing up to wash over her head like a wave and overwhelm her.

Marcia was torn. She knew it was wrong, but it was the most effective way of coping she'd ever known. And now, even worse, more traitorous thoughts were beginning to rise up.

She'd heard talk—just hushed whispers, really—of people who took knives to their skin—and actually cut themselves open! In the past, she had always responded with the appropriate amount of horror—those stories always ended up with the perpetrator being institutionalized or trying to kill themselves—but now she wasn't so sure. She would never go to such extremes, of course! She didn't want to do herself any permanent damage, but she had begun to think that many the base thought behind their way of thinking wasn't so crazy after all.

If simply biting down on her knuckles—leaving an extremely temporary mark—led to such calm and clear-headedness, she imagined the effect of actually drawing blood would be drug-like. The thought was terrifying. And thrilling.

Lately, she'd begun taking her comb with her everywhere she went—it was currently sitting at the bottom of her bag—running it over her skin so frequently that it had begun to leave a more permanent mark. Her blood was beading up closer to the surface of her skin, ready to spill over if she just gave it a strong enough prodding.

The desire to give it that final push was just about overpowering. For curiosity's sake if nothing else. Even now, if she tried hard enough, Marcia could convince herself that she was still in control. She had to know what it felt like. If only just once. And then her curiosity would be sated, and she would return to her more tame way of dealing with things. And nobody would ever have to find out.

But how to go about it? It was hardly like she owned an array of sharp objects. She supposed she could find something around the house, but it would be nearly impossible to do it without being caught. Her mother was a professional housewife. She'd always been absolutely meticulous about everything, but she'd gotten more so recently as Marcia's father had begun critiquing her more and more harshly. No, there was no way even one of the knives in the kitchen could disappear to Marcia's room without being noticed.

Slowly, an idea dawned on her. In fact, it was almost a little too perfect. She knew where she could get a knife.

 **Review please!**

 **I don't own the Outsiders.**

 **But I do love my cliffhangers…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome to chapter two. Thank you so much for reviewing chapter one** FrankElza **,** ChillPillBerry **,** Emolichic1 **, and** BrokenAskeus!

 **Chapter Two**

Once her mind was made up, Marcia began to function on autopilot. She got her expression under control—not obvious signs of distress—and then changed into something a little more fitting for a night out on the town. It wasn't an outfit that would earn her much respect where she was going, but it would help to convince her parents that she really did have plans with Cherry tonight that they had already agreed to and forgotten.

Stopping only to take a deep breath at the top of the stairs, Marcia made her way to the front door just as her father came home.

"Hi, Daddy!" she greeted, a tad too cheerfully, as he smiled wearily at her. She smoothly caught the door behind him before it closed and considered just leaving—seeing if anyone even _tried_ to stop her—when her mother walked in from the dining room. Great. Now there was no way she would get out of the house without incident.

"Close the door, Marcia, it's cold outside," were the first words out of her mother's mouth as the woman strode purposefully towards her husband. Marcia really wasn't in the mood to listen to whatever it was they would be arguing about tonight.

"I'm going to the movies with Cherry," she spoke up, holding on to that fake, bright tone.

Her mother, who was already closing in on her father, turned back now. "What?"

"I have plans with Cherry," Marcia repeated, her voice a little louder than necessary, a sign of her own irritation leaking through. She pressed on, hoping her parents hadn't noticed. "Remember?"

"No. When did you ask about this?"

"This morning." Her timing was off. She'd been hoping her mother would be a little more distracted. "I told Cherry I'd meet her at her house at six."

It was about 5:45 now. She would have to make this decision, soon.

"You planned on walking? Alone? It's getting dark."

"She's nearly an adult, Laura," her father interjected at last. "The Valances only live one street over."

"Don't you lecture _me_ on responsibility, Conrad."

"I'll see you later," she called over her shoulder as she walked out the door. The start of their following argument drifted out after her. Her mother was scolding her father. Conrad replied with something along the lines of, "It's not like we live in one of _those_ neighborhoods."

Marcia exhaled deeply and shook her head as she walked away, in the opposite direction of the Valance household. Her parents' topic of choice that night was all Randy ever wanted to talk about these days. Tension between the social classes in Tulsa had been on the rise lately. Though her parents tried to keep her as shielded as possible, she'd heard the news of increased protests and affluent businesses being vandalized. She suspected her father's office building had been targeted, causing all the recent tension inside her own home.

She knew Randy was stressed. Despite the fact that they were only teenagers—not even out of high school yet—Bob was calling for action. When it came to Bob, the greasers were to blame for everything. She'd been around a few times when Randy had been on the receiving end of one of his speeches. The way Bob saw it, you never really grew out of your high school cliques. A person's success in life was determined the moment they were born. So much for the American Dream. Bob thought their less fortunate classmates needed to be taught to respect their superiors—usually by way of violence. And while Randy tended to take a less active stance, he wasn't all that kind to them either.

Now, Marcia was starting to have her first doubts as she got further and further from her comfort zone. The other side of town was always a little rough, but to be out there, alone, dressed like she obviously didn't belong… It probably wasn't the best plan when everyone was already so on edge. But she pushed on.

The image of her skin slowly splitting open, the blood rushing to the surface on a wave of clarity… It was all fiction, (right now) but she couldn't get the idea out of her head. She cursed her own weakness, but the temptation was too strong. It was the longing for that high, that sense of stability, that kept her moving. Marcia had come to accept a lot of unpleasant things about herself that night. Now she knew, she was no better than a druggie.

Using what little willpower she had left, Marcia forced her mind to other things—even though such 'other things' were related.

About a week ago, she and Cherry—originally with Bob and Randy—had gone to the drive-in. Not willing to hang around with the boys when they were drunk, the two had gone off alone… Where they had unwittingly seated themselves in front of a group of greasers.

But it hadn't turned into the kind of cautionary tale, horror story one might expect from that sort of set-up. With one glaring exception, the boys had been nice. They hadn't overstepped any major boundaries, and Marcia had even given one of them her number at the end of the night.

Of course, Bob and Randy hadn't been pleased when they'd been caught, and it hadn't helped that the two had been less than sober. But they hadn't found any when they'd gone looking for trouble. And if anything, that seemed to anger Bob more.

But now her mind was on the boy who'd been flirting with her that night. He had been funny, she'd give him that, but that wasn't why she wanted to find him now. The boy—"Two-Bit"—had spent the whole night absentmindedly playing with his sleek black knife. Her real target.

Of course, she hadn't gotten much personal information out of Two-Bit—not even his real name. But she knew from Cherry's conversation with the younger boys that at least one of his pals worked at a DX station she'd been to a few times. Perhaps she would be able to track him down through his friend.

Speaking of… She'd made it. The gas station was in sight. This was it.

Marcia squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before moving forward. When she walked into the station, there were two boys inside—both greasers, one behind the counter, the other leaning on the outside. They both looked up when she walked in, the darker-haired one glancing outside to see if he'd somehow missed a car driving up.

The blond one behind the counter gave her a patient smile, though he looked weary. "Hi. Can we help ya with somethin'?"

"Maybe," she answered, faltering slightly. "I'm looking for Two-Bit?"

"Yeah?" the meaner-looking one replied, skeptical. He gave her a not-so-subtle glance over, his eyes saying it all: She didn't belong there. "And whattaya want with 'im?"

Vaguely, she wondered if he was slurring his speech, making himself appear that much more uncouth, on purpose. If he was trying to intimidate her. Slowly, their names were coming to her. The challenging one was Steve Randle. She saw him in the hallway at school every so often. And the blond behind the counter, of course, was one of the Curtis boys. Sodapop.

"I gave him my number the other night," she said bravely. "He never called."

"Maybe there's a reason for that," Steve muttered. "We've got enough trouble right now."

His friend gave him a look and Steve walked past her where she watched him light up a cigarette outside. When Marcia turned back to the counter, Sodapop gave her another, almost indulgent, smile. He was humoring her. She was wasting his time, but the station wasn't busy. Still, she felt bad. What was she thinking, coming to pester these boys at work? Her judgment must have been more clouded than she'd realized.

She'd brought her purse with her, of course. It helped to complete the look that had been intended to fool her parents. She didn't carry much money with her, but she knew she had a few coins in there somewhere. She took a few steps and grabbed a random candy bar off the rack, trying to excuse her insensitivity at least a little.

As Sodapop nodded and rang out her purchase, Marcia took this chance to look him over just as Steve had done to her not five minutes before.

Greaser or not, she'd never denied that Sodapop Curtis was handsome. He didn't have the same rough edge most greasers had, either. She was sure he could look right intimidating, if he wanted to, but he didn't carry that air around with him everywhere. It wasn't quite so natural for him. She'd heard his girlfriend—one of those awful greaser girls—had dumped him recently, too. This was the first time she'd seen him since he'd left school, but he'd always been her type. She wasn't sure why she'd never been attracted to him.

She smiled back, took her candy, and left. But as she walked away from the station, she had to pass Steve Randle, who nodded in her direction.

Just when she thought she was home free, he called, "Hey, Soc."

She considered ignoring him, but she turned around reluctantly. "Yes?"

He smirked at her overly polite tone. It was like reverse mimicking. Just had he had tried to sound tough earlier to intimidate her, now she was going to be more of a well-bred young lady than ever before.

"Two-Bit usually bums around here after school. If you really wanna find him, show up tomorrow, when the sun's out."

And when they were sure to be significantly busier. It was a challenge, plain as day. But she felt like she could handle it. She wasn't even remotely nervous about her walk home.

 **Review please!**

 **I don't own the Outsiders!**

 **So, a few things were introduced in this chapter… One, I really wanted to expand on why Marcia would take such a crazy adventure, seemingly on a whim. Self-harm really is like an addiction.**

 **And second, in case it was not totally clear, this is sort of an AU. The week that the canon Outsiders took place in has come and gone, but Bob never found Pony and Johnny in the park, (I'm debating going into how that changed and if it's relevant) so here we are.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This one is kind of an in-between chapter… I wanted to set up the conflict between Steve and Evie. Sandy's already out of the picture, so that's one obstacle out of the way for Soda's half of this love story, but the Soda/Cherry half of this story is piggy-backed off the of the Marcia/Steve one… So that'll come in a little later.**

 **Thank you for reviewing chapter two** Pony'sgirlfriend **,** mycookiegirl **,** ChillPillBerry **, and** FrankElza!

 **Chapter Three**

Steve was still scowling when he walked back into the station. Soda looked up from the counter, absentmindedly tapping his fingers across the register.

"You coulda been a little nicer, y'know," he drawled lazily. "She was still a customer."

Steve grunted in response. When his best friend sighed, he elaborated, "Really? You wanna set Two-Bit up with a Soc? We get jumped enough as it is."

"You don't know that's what she wanted…"

"Dressed like _that_?" he countered skeptically.

Soda straightened up from behind the counter, nodding grudgingly. He'd won the debate, but the look on Soda's face made his stomach sink. His best friend had always seen the best in everyone, but now he worried that Soda's outlook on life seemed to have been permanently dampened by Sandy's betrayal.

"It's time for me to get home," Soda said into the silence that had billowed up between them.

Steve nodded, glancing up at the clock behind the counter. Because his own work hours were limited by school and Sodapop worked full time, they weren't always on the same shifts. During the week, Soda was usually home shortly after dinner while Steve worked until closing.

These few hours he spent manning the shop by himself left him alone with his thoughts, something he wasn't always that fond of, especially that night.

He and Evie were having problems. His best friend wasn't the only lively soul Sandy had taken to Florida. Evie and Sandy had been together for nearly as long as Sodapop and himself. Steve had tried to empathize with her. He wasn't sure _he'd_ be able to function if Soda just took off and refused to contact anyone from his past life. From what he'd gathered between the two of them, Sandy was never coming back to Oklahoma. She'd made a clean break and had no intention of reestablishing any old ties. Even with her parents.

Soda was heartbroken. Even was heartbroken. Their entire gang was still reeling from the deaths of the Curtis parents less than a year ago. His own father seemed to grow more bitter by the day… Steve was facing hatred and despair on all sides, and it was driving him crazy.

Lately, all Evie wanted to do was cry, drink, or complain. And it was hardly like Steve could gripe about this to Soda. At least _he_ was handling Sandy's departure with some sort of depressed grace. Steve never brought up Sandy unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it, which meant keeping his own relationship troubles to himself.

 **…**

Marcia woke up the next morning to find that the butterflies that had been in her stomach when she'd gone to sleep the night before had not magically disappeared. But, to her own surprise, she welcomed the challenge she faced that day. At least it was a distraction.

She dressed and tried to go about her morning in as inconspicuous a manner as possible. She'd always felt like guilt left a visible mark on her, maybe because she lied so rarely.

When she'd returned home the night before, she was immediately bombarded with questions. Namely, why was she back so early? No movie could have ended already.

So Marcia had come up with a hastily-crafted excuse. She and Cherry hadn't wanted to see anything that was playing. In the end, they'd gone out for ice cream instead. She could only pray that her parents didn't chick this with the Valances. She had no doubt that Cherry would cover for her… But she didn't know how she would explain her actual whereabouts to her friend.

But when Marcia finally made it downstairs, there was no confrontation in sight. Her father had already left for work, and the housekeeper who stopped by a few times a week informed her that her mother was still in bed with a headache. Marcia wasn't complaining. At least now she could focus on the bigger problem at hand.

Getting back to the gas station after school was going to be the easy part. She had no idea how she was going to convince some greaser who barely knew—good sense of humor or not—to steal her a switchblade of her own. What happened when he asked her why she wanted it? The real reason would land her in the psych ward, and there was no other reason the good girl she was supposed to be would need one.

She sighed and stepped back from the table, leaving her dishes for Carrie to pick up. This was one dilemma she would have to solve later. Right now she had other things to worry about… Like the math test she had first period.

 **…**

"How did you do?"

Marcia sighed and stretched. Cherry had met her outside her first-period class so they could walk to their next one together. "Alright, I guess. It wasn't my best work…"

"Well, Rawley's a hard grader, too."

Marcia hummed in response, but her mind was elsewhere. Truth be told, she never had been very good at keeping secrets. She was dying to spill everything, but she wasn't sure even Cherry could be trusted with the darkness that had entered her life recently. And she still hadn't decided what she was going to do about her meeting with Two-Bit later that afternoon.

Speaking of… She and Cherry turned a corner and she caught sight of none other than Steve Randle and who could only be her greaser girlfriend. She certainly wasn't a part of Cherry and Marcia's crowd.

The girl had teased, caramel-colored hair, an indecently short skirt, and an angry scowl fit to match the one on Steve's face. They were arguing about something, but Steve stopped when he caught sight of Marcia, seeming to forget what he had been saying.

When Cherry noticed the odd scene, Marcia couldn't help herself. She beamed at the rough boy and waved like a little kid then quickly dragged Cherry into the classroom behind her, giggling the whole way.

It sounded like the other girl had spotted her too. Marcia heard very clearly over the chattering of the other students, "Who the hell was _that_?"

"How should I know?" Steve shot back. " _She_ was starin' at _me_!"

Marcia made sure to stay just out of sight beside the doorway, listening to the trouble she'd caused. She could barely recognize herself these days. And she wasn't the only one. Cherry was looking at her quizzically.

She raised an eyebrow. "What was that all about?"

Marcia just smiled and shrugged, pretending to be clueless. She was becoming oddly excited about her plans that afternoon.

 **Review please!**

 **I don't own the Outsiders.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for reviewing chapter three** BrokenAskeus **,** FrankElza **,** Emolichic1 **, and** Pony'sgirlfriend **!**

 **Chapter Four**

Steve hoisted himself up onto the sink, trying to get a better look in the mirror. The three, long scratches on his cheek had stopped bleeding, but they still stung like hell.

He scowled at his own reflection, dropping back down to the tiled floor. He wouldn't be able to lie his way out of this one. No fight with another guy would have left such a mark. At least the accompanying handprint had faded.

The door to the bathroom swung open, and Two-Bit's cigarette was lit before it closed behind him. "Hey, man, I hear you been gettin' into fights without me."

"Can it, Two-Bit," Steve grumbled, accepting a smoke from his friend.

Two-Bit leaned in closer to look at the angry red scratches and whistled, inadvertently blowing smoke in Steve's face. "Ooh. Your girl got you good."

"She ain't my girl anymore," he shot back, blowing smoke back at him on purpose.

Two-Bit didn't seem to mind. "That what the fight was about? I'm sure she'll be back soon."

"Maybe I don't want her back." His tone never rose from a grumble, but he wasn't sure Two-Bit was listening anyway. His relationship with Evie had always been rocky at best. This certainly wasn't the first time they'd attracted attention with their fighting, and Two-Bit seemed certain it wouldn't be the last. Once upon a time, Steve had thought that kind of passion was what made their relationship beautiful—in good and bad times. Now, he wasn't sure it was worth the trouble anymore.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the sink when they heard the warning bell sound. He had exactly a minute left to get to class on time. Not that he was usually a stickler for punctuality, but he had auto-mechanics next, and the other idiots in the class were sure to destroy the car they were working on if he wasn't around to supervise.

Just before he walked out, he turned back to Two-Bit, who certainly wasn't hung up about getting to class on time. "You gonna come down to the station later today?"

Two-Bit shrugged. "Probably. Why?"

"There was some Soc girl lookin' for ya last night. I told her you'd be there today."

"No kiddin'."

Two-Bit seemed intrigued, but Steve was gone before he could ask any questions.

 **…**

By the time the last bell of the day rang, Marcia was nervous, though not for the reason she had expected to be. She had decided around lunchtime that she was just going to go with the flow. She would wait to judge the atmosphere—how well Two-Bit received her company—before she came up with an excuse for needing the knife.

No, her plans for the afternoon weren't what had her worried. She had a bigger problem. Cherry was onto her.

Marcia was trying to act as normal as possible, but her friend was starting to get suspicious. That girl was too smart for her own good sometimes.

"So," she asked now. "Do you have plans after school? Maybe we should do something together."

"Don't you have cheer practice?" Marcia pointed out, taking care to avoid her question.

"It wouldn't kill me to skip one day. The squad's really good this year."

"Cherry Valance," Marcia scolded, laying it on a little thick, even for her naturally dramatic tendencies. "When did you become so irresponsible?"

Cherry didn't even crack a smile. Stubbornly, she replied, "I don't know, Marcia Brown, when did you become a liar?"

They shared a very stiff moment of silence as students swarmed past them, eager to get home. When the swarm had slowed to just a few stragglers, Marcia's expression turned grim. Quietly she said, "Please, Cherry. I need you to trust me. Go to practice."

 _And don't say anything to my parents,_ she added in her head.

Cherry stared back for a few more seconds before nodding and turning to go to her locker. As Marcia watched her go, she felt a pang of guilt in her chest. She'd only known Cherry for two years—since they'd been placed in the same Biology class freshman year—but she was a good friend, and Marcia hated to push her away.

But she knew there was no way Cherry would approve of what she was doing. Any aspect of it.

Marcia tried to take as many backroads as she was familiar with, ignoring every warning she'd ever heard about walking alone in a bad neighborhood. She wondered what it said about her that she was more worried about being seen in this part of town by her own kind than she was about getting mugged. Or worse.

Her heart sank a little when she finally caught sight of the gas station. Just as she'd suspected, they were much busier than they'd been the night before. She spotted both Steve and Soda tending to cars. There was another boy she didn't know manning the counter inside.

Marcia scanned the cars but didn't recognize any of them. She took a few steps forward, not ready to move off the sidewalk and towards the building just yet. She'd spent the latter half of the day telling herself that not coming with a plan prepared wasn't going to be a big deal. She would just _know_ what to do when the time came to make a decision. Now she felt foolish.

But then she saw him. Two-Bit was lounging against the outside of the store. At first she thought he might just be waiting for his friends to get off work, but his eyes were on her. He'd definitely been given a heads-up that she was coming.

And he smiled when she came closer, but she was relieved to see that he looked more curious than anything else. She wasn't sure what his friends had told him, exactly.

"Lookin' for me?"

"Yes." She did her best to blend into the wall beside him so as not to attract attention. "Do you remember me?"

A corner of his mouth tugged upwards. He seemed amused. "Course I do. It ain't every day I hang out with a Soc."

Marcia scrunched up her nose. She was beginning to understand what Cherry meant about being fed up with labels. All she ever heard lately was 'Soc this, greaser that.' She wasn't even sure what being a 'Soc' meant anymore.

"That's _all_ you remember about me?" She was surprised at herself. She wondered what Randy would say if he knew she was being this coy with a greaser. An older boy at that. Nothing good, she bet.

Now Two-Bit laughed, really getting a kick out of this. "Oh yeah? There something you _want_ me to remember? Is that what all this is about?"

"No." She looked down, her tone suddenly sober. How to bring up the knife? How to explain why she needed it?

In fact, why did she? With a start, Marcia realized that she hadn't thought about hurting herself since leaving the gas station the night before. Well, she supposed it was the driving force behind everything she'd done in the past 24 hours. It was an addictive thought, but it was an addictive thought that had been masked by other thoughts. Plans. Lies.

There was no way she would be able to convince some greaser she barely knew to steal for her. Marcia had known from day one that there were healthier ways to deal with stress. Maybe this was her wake-up call to find one.

There was a lesson to be learned from this past day. Maybe all she really needed were distractions. But this revelation wasn't going to make recovery any easier, and it still left her floundering for a reason to be here.

Then again… Maybe this was the perfect opportunity to get some answers from the other side.

"Two-Bit," she said suddenly. "I know I don't know you very well, but you're the only greaser I've ever really talked with."

"Aw, shoot," he said, looking puzzled. "You met Steve yesterday."

She made a face, glancing at the boy in question. He was working on someone's car a few yards away. Funny, his scowl almost completely disappeared when he was concentrating, but that didn't do much to dim her memory of his sour attitude the day before. But when Two-Bit saw the look on her face, he just laughed.

"He's a little rough around the edges, but he's a good guy. Anyway, what's up?"

Marcia hummed in response, choosing not to linger on his choice of friends. "I guess I just wanted to know… Why do you and your friends go around vandalizing things and beating people up?"

She was curious. Cherry was right. She didn't believe either that it was solely money that separated the Socs from the greasers. She liked to believe that if _her_ family ever lost everything, she would be a little more humble about it.

But she also had to admit… The greasers' loose lifestyle had always intrigued Marcia. She'd watched them throw endearments at their girls as easily as they tossed expletives at their enemies. They never seemed to care what anyone thought about them. Sometimes she wished she could live that freely.

Two-Bit seemed to find this amusing too, though. Marcia was starting to wonder if there was anything this boy took seriously.

"I dunno how to tell ya this, darlin' but your boys cause as much trouble as we do."

She blinked. "What are you talking about?"

Two-Bit snorted and shook his head. "Why, it ain't even been a week since two of my friends were jumped on their way home."

"By Socs?"

Marcia wasn't sure she believed him. Sure, she'd seen greasers in the hallway with bruises and whatnot, but she'd also heard that they tended to jump _each other_ —for fun, if nothing else. And she knew Bob and Randy liked to talk tough, but she'd always thought it was all show.

Two-Bit didn't answer verbally. He just quirked an eyebrow like it should have been obvious. Marcia pushed the thought out of her mind. She would contemplate this new development later.

"Things are getting worse," she said instead. "I may not know you very well, but I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"So what do you suggest we do?" She noted that he sounded interested… but not like he was taking her seriously. She began to chew on her bottom lip, another bad habit.

"I guess… I don't know. I just wanted to make some sort of connection. I can't believe we're actually all that different."

He shook his head like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing and stood up straight. "Great. Well, I'd love to hang around and chat…"

"I know it sounds crazy," she cut in. "And maybe it is crazy to think two people could do anything to stop some social class war, but can we talk again sometime? If I ever run into you somewhere, no crazy grudges?"

This time when he smiled, it didn't seem amused or mocking. It looked genuinely kind. And yet…

For some reason, when she left, she didn't feel like she'd accomplished much of anything.

 **Review please!**

 **I don't own the Outsiders!**

 **Wow. Four chapters in a month… That's some kind of record for me.**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, on the upside for me—maybe the downside for you guys—I just started a new job! Which is great, so I can pay for school, but it will probably be taking a toll on my fanfiction time. This chapter doesn't feel too delayed (it's still out sooner than usual) and I'll be doing my best to keep up with a timely updating schedule; I just wanted to give you a heads up.**

 **On a lighter note, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I don't feel like very much of importance happens… but I enjoyed myself, particularly with the scenes including the greasers. This seems to have become Marcia's story, which wasn't my intention. Originally, I was going to give equal time to all four of them—Marcia, Steve, Soda, and Cherry—but Cherry and Soda's individual scenes may have to come later.**

 **Thank you for reviewing the last chapter** FrankElza **,** Pony'sgirlfriend **, and** Guest **!**

 **Chapter Five**

When Marcia left the gas station, she didn't head straight home. She walked past her street and ended up on the Valances' doorstep. And five minutes later, she was sitting in Cherry's bedroom, waiting as her friend changed out of her cheer practice clothes, like it was just another afternoon after school.

"I thought you were busy this afternoon," Cherry commented casually, brushing out her hair as she sat down on her bed beside Marcia.

"I was. I'm not now. And you said you wanted to hang out." She tried to keep her voice light and cheery.

"Right," Cherry replied with a small smile. "Why are you really here?"

It was enough to make Marcia return her smile. Her friend really did know her too well. "All right, you caught me. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. This Soc/greaser thing is getting pretty crazy, don't you think?"

Cherry sighed, setting down her brush. "It's always been kind of crazy. But when we were younger, it seemed to make so much sense. I don't know why."

"Of course it made sense," Marcia assured her. After all, she'd only started to question the system recently. "We needed some way to know who was worth making friends with and who was just trouble."

It sounded like a poor excuse now, and Cherry seemed to agree. Her lips pursed. "Yeah, but what if we were wrong? Putting people in boxes like that… I mean, that's not a one-way street. What assumptions do you think have been made about _us_?"

Marcia was quiet, letting that sink in. Cherry was right, of course. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have been able to imagine any negative connotations someone could have attached to being a Soc. Nothing that didn't ultimately boil down to jealousy, anyway. Now she wasn't so sure.

"Cherry… I know Bob mostly just likes to talk tough, but you don't think he's actually done anything, do you?" She hated to even ask the question, but she hated Cherry's reaction more.

Her friend seemed to withdraw into herself, her frown deepening. It made Marcia's heart sink. Could Two-Bit's words be true?

"I didn't want to tell you this," Cherry said slowly, quietly. "I didn't even want to think about it myself… That night we met those boys at the Nightly Double… You remember how I went up to the concession stand with the young one? Ponyboy?"

Marcia nodded, a little shock running through her that Cherry would bring up that meeting so soon after she'd gone and tracked down one of those boys. She wondered if Cherry's mind had also been lingering on that night. It felt a little pathetic to her now, but ditching their boyfriends and sitting with a couple of strangers—greasers, at that—felt like the wildest thing they'd ever done.

"While we were waiting in line," Cherry continued, "Ponyboy started telling me about something that happened to Johnny—you know, the young-looking one."

Marcia nodded again. "Right. I remember him… The dark, quiet one with the scar on his face. To be honest, he kind of gave me the creeps."

She felt a little bad admitting it. Johnny had seemed nice enough. But Marcia was a social butterfly. She had trouble understanding quiet people in general, Socs and greasers alike.

Cherry wouldn't look at her. Instead, she picked up her hairbrush again and began twirling it around in her hands. "Ponyboy said Johnny had been hurt badly… By someone wearing a lot of rings. That how he got that scar."

Marcia's eyes widened as Cherry's words sank in. "You don't think…" She lowered her voice. "Would Bob do that?"

Every single one of Cherry's muscles seemed to tense further. "I don't want to think so, but… You've heard him talk."

"Yeah, but it was all talk, right?" Marcia knew she was looking panicked, certainly not reassuring as her friend had wanted. The hairbrush had stopped moving in Cherry's hands. Instead, she was gripping it tightly, her knuckles white.

"I wanted to believe that. I still do. But what if I'm just kidding myself? Bob has been different lately; I know you've seen it too. I mean, he was always a nasty drunk, but lately he doesn't even need the alcohol. He's angry all the time, and nothing I do or say can break him out of it."

"So," Marcia said breathlessly, "you think he takes his anger out on younger kids?"

"Younger _greasers_ ," Cherry specified, growing increasingly agitated. She stood suddenly, pacing around her room and coming to stand by her window, peering coldly outside. "And it's not just him. Ponyboy said Johnny was attacked by a _group_ of older boys. Socs."

Marcia's mouth was dry. "And…" She swallowed. "You believe him?"

It was her last chance for Cherry to counter every suspicion that had formed in her mind since her talk with Two-Bit just hours before. But she was disappointed. Cherry's jaw clenched. She may have been upset, but she was just as strong as ever.

"Yes, Marcia. I do. Maybe it's because Ponyboy is so young. Maybe he just hasn't had time to be corrupted yet. But I don't think that's true. I want to believe that there is good in this world, Marcia." Her expression was deathly serious. "I have to believe that. There are people out there who never lose the goodness they're born with, no matter the circumstances. Greasers and Socs has nothing to do with it. I believe Ponyboy is one of those people. I truly do. Everything he said that night was genuine. I'm just not sure what it means for us."

 **…**

Marcia couldn't get Cherry's words out of her head on her walk home. What _did_ it mean for them? She was starting to realize just how much she'd counted on all these assumptions and stereotypes. It felt as if her entire world was being turned upside down.

She couldn't even remember when she'd started using this Socs versus greasers system to separate the good kids from the bad. Everything had seemed so simple before. Now her compass for judgment had been compromised. She felt lost and disoriented and had no idea how to remedy that.

It wasn't until she reached her front steps that she realized she'd been scratching at her arm the whole way home. She pulled her sleeves down further to cover the angry red lines trailing up and down her arm.

Of course getting better wouldn't be as simple as deciding to do so. But shed' been on a high of sorts since leaving Two-Bit—and his knife—behind. It had been empowering, deciding to handle this on her own. Now she was starting to wonder if she was capable of "handling" it. So many of her worst habits seemed deeply ingrained.

She pushed forward, pounding up the stairs with more force than usual. She tried to at least close her door gently. She didn't want her mother to become suspicious and confront her.

Marcia tried to sit still, not moving a single muscle. Her own body seemed to be working against her. When she realized she'd been absentmindedly scratching at herself, she'd been so frustrated. Her immediate response had been to bite her lip and clench her fists until her nails had left dents in her palms. When did pain become her first response and not her last ditch effort to curb her anxiety?

She tried not to move a muscle and keep her breathing even. She was coming up blank on alternate ways to cope. This was so much harder than she'd been anticipating.

Long term solutions would require further brainstorming. But for now, until she found that alternate way to deal, there were simpler ways to relax. Marcia undressed and put on her pajamas as quickly as possible before snapping off the light and climbing into bed. It was early—the sun was just setting—but she closed her eyes and focused on regulating her breathing. Slowly, her stiff muscles relaxed and her thoughts grew sluggish. Slowly, she fell asleep.

 **…**

It was a normal morning in the Curtis household. Of course, "normal" meant "absolutely crazy."

Dallas was nowhere to be found—most likely sleeping off a long night spent celebrating his recent release—but otherwise, it was a full house.

Darry was the only one reflecting some semblance of order—calmly sorting through the clothes in his closet as he got ready for another long day. Two-Bit and Steve were shoving each other around the kitchen, and the appropriate clamor followed each shout. Soda rushed past just as Two-Bit managed to steal the comb from Steve's hand, using one hand to hold the towel to his hip and the other to slam the door of his bedroom shut behind him, late as usual. Johnny was helping Ponyboy scout the living room for the last of his scattered textbooks, generally making even more of a mess of the place than it had been before.

However, it was amazing how well-orchestrated it seemed when all that chaos came together. With the long-awaited shout of "Got it!", Steve snatched his comb back and the two converged on the living room, finally ready to leave for school. The two older Curtis boys emerged from their rooms simultaneously, Darry grabbing the keys to their truck off the counter as they, too, crowded into the living room.

But as the boys flocked out the door, Johnny and Ponyboy piling into Two-Bit's car, Darry starting up his own vehicle, Soda pulled his best friend aside.

"Hey. You workin' today?"

Steve gave him a strange look. "Yeah. You know I am. I've had the same schedule for a year."

Soda shrugged. "You've been quiet lately. I just wanted to make sure ya didn't swap your shifts or nothin'."

Steve scowled. Conversations with his best friend never used to make him want a cigarette this much. "What're ya talkin' about? I ain't any quieter than usual."

Soda cocked an eyebrow, looking disturbingly like Two-Bit. "Oh yeah? Then how come I had to hear it from _Dally_ that you and Evie broke up?"

Steve wasn't sure how to answer that. How had Dallas found out? Well, that was a dumb question. Dally seemed to have his own personal information highway. Most news in Tulsa filtered through to him eventually. Steve figured news about his friends probably got around to him faster than anything else. But Soda was still waiting for an answer. Luckily, he was saved from having to think of one.

"Hey, Soda! Let's go! We're gonna be late!"

Two-Bit accentuated Darry's words by honking his horn obnoxiously. Though Steve's scowl deepened, Soda just rolled his eyes with a good-natured smile and turned to run to the truck before Darry really got impatient.

"See ya after school!" Soda called as their truck roared away.

 **…**

Marcia had had better mornings. It had begun with her mother very nearly assaulting her with questions. Why had she gone to bed so early? She'd missed dinner. Had something happened the day before? Was she feeling sick? It was not an encouraging start. Her early night the day before was the last thing she wanted to talk about.

But Marcia had made a decision that morning. She wasn't sure she believed in all that mind over matter stuff, but it was worth a shot. She was going to try to be the happy, unburdened person everyone thought she was. Wanting it hadn't been enough to make it so. She was prepared to give it a little more effort.

So after she casually brushed off her mother's concerns, Marcia pasted on a wide smile, ready to greet everyone who crossed her path. In fact, perhaps she was laying it on a little too thick. Cherry spent the entire ride to school periodically sending strange looks her way.

But she couldn't let Cherry's opinion get in her way, no matter how much she liked her friend. She sent smiles everyone's ways, generous and unbiased. Her own behavior had her on a wonderful high. By lunchtime there was only one ounce of dread still weighing down her thoughts. And she was prepared to confront it. Or, _him_ , to be more accurate.

As she walked to lunch, Marcia scoured the halls, searching every face she passed. She smiled even wider when she spotted him, though he was with his friends.

"Hey!" she called impulsively, deciding to ignore the way his face fell when he recognized her. She didn't miss the smirk that passed between Johnny and Ponyboy either. Marcia planted herself in front of Steve and smiled. "I want to talk to you."

She wanted to be a good person, she really did. She tried not to find it _too_ amusing that he recoiled quite noticeably at her proximity to him. Or maybe it was her words he was horrified with. She wasn't really sure. The smaller boys exchanged another look, laughter in her eyes.

"We'll leave you two alone," Ponyboy offered deviously before they rushed off. Steve looked like he could have strangled the younger boy, but Johnny and Ponyboy had already disappeared around the next corner, leaving Steve and Marcia alone with the crowd of nosy students.

"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand, noting how uneasy he looked about all the wandering eyes. Granted, he didn't look any happier about holding her hand in the midst of this crowd, but she didn't give him time to linger on it, dragging him into the cafeteria behind her.

They sat across from each other at the empty table closest to the door. She'd begun to notice recently that very few greasers actually ate inside the cafeteria. For this reason, Steve didn't seem to know whether he wanted to sit up straighter and try to look tough or sink down into his seat to avoid being spotted.

"Well?" he hissed at last, satisfied that they hadn't attracted any immediate attention. "What is it?"

"I wanted to apologize," she said lightly. "About waving to you yesterday. I think I may have caused a fight between you and your girlfriend. I hope everything worked out okay."

"We ain't together anymore." He sounded like he was tired of saying it. "And _this_ is how you wanna apologize for makin' a scene?"

She blinked, realizing for the first time that she probably could have thought this through a little more. "Huh. I guess you're right. I am sorry, though. If you explain that it was nothing, I'm sure you two can make up."

She swore she could literally see the muscles above his eye twitching, like in a cartoon. Steve stood abruptly, slamming his hands down on the table a little too roughly. The sound attracted the attention of the closest teacher on duty. Steve looked like he wanted to leave her with one last scathing remark but thought better of it when Mrs. Paulson started walking their way. He wisely left her sitting there, striding out of the cafeteria.

"Marcia," Mrs. Paulson said, reaching her seat. "Are you all right? Was that boy bothering you?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine, Ma'am. Actually," she said with a laugh, "I think _I_ was bothering _him_."

Mrs. Paulson didn't seem totally appeased—Marcia wondered if she _wanted_ a reason to go after Steve—but the teacher walked away to return to her post.

Just as she turned, Cherry walked into the cafeteria. As they spotted each other, Marcia noticed that Bob and Randy were nowhere to be seen. In fact, it had been a few days since she'd talked to Randy. Marcia was beginning to think they'd drifted apart while she'd been distracted. And it didn't seem to disappoint her as much as she felt it should.

 **Review please! I still don't own the Outsiders.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the delay on this one, guys. It's not just that I have less free time now. I was hit with some writers block for this chapter. And then I wasn't sure how far I wanted the last scene to go… Anyway…**

 **Thank you** Pony'sgirlfriend **,** FrankElza **, and** BrokenAskeus **for reviewing chapter five!**

 **Chapter Six**

Cherry raised her eyebrows as she took Steve's place across from her friend, her eyes following the teacher until she returned to her post. "What was that about?"

Marcia fiddled with the strap of her purse, not raising her line of sight above the tabletop. Cherry was immediately suspicious. She knew when someone was trying too hard to appear nonchalant. "It was nothing, really. I just wanted to apologize for being a nuisance."

Cherry frowned. "And… Do you really think that's a good idea?"

Now Marcia looked at her head-on, an uncharacteristic challenge in her eyes. "I thought the greasers didn't bother you."

"It's not me, Marcia… I think everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. But not everyone agrees with me. Some of our friends are… prejudiced."

Marcia scrutinized her friend for the first time, noted the redness around her eyes. "Did you and Bob get into another fight?"

"It was a disagreement," Cherry corrected with a sigh. "Not a fight."

"And I can guess what it was about." Marcia's diversion tactic made her feel dirty. She really was sympathetic, but talking about Bob's pigheadedness was the perfect way to distract Cherry from her line of questioning.

"He's really not a bad guy," Cherry protested quietly, though her argument sounded tired. "Bob is just… There are certain things he… He's just been _stressed_ lately. He's not thinking very clearly…"

Marcia let the silence float up between them. She knew a thing or two about stress. But she wasn't sure it really excused Bob's actions. She wasn't pleased with the way _she_ was handling stress, but the only person she'd ever hurt was herself. That had to count for something, right?

She broke the silence by slowly standing up. The cafeteria had filled by then and was much louder. Not the place for this sort of conversation.

"I'm going to get in line for lunch," Marcia announced as Cherry picked her head up. Her friend just nodded, still wrapped up in her own troubles. Once upon a time, Marcia's mother had sent her off to school with a packed lunch every morning too, but lately she'd been distracted and busy, leaving money out for her instead. Marcia tried not to take it personally, cafeteria food or not. She knew she could very well pack her own lunch if she wanted to.

But it stung all the same. Her mother was a housewife. It was her job to take care of the home and its inhabitants. What could have possibly changed to make her so busy all of a sudden?

Marcia jumped with a little squeal when a hand came down abruptly on each of her shoulders. She whirled around, eliciting grumbles from the ruffled lunch line, and found herself staring into Randy's grinning face.

"Randy!" she exclaimed. "When did you get here?"

"Just a few seconds ago," he said nonchalantly, straightening back up. Marcia tried to keep her eyes from lingering on the line of people behind him that he had no doubt pushed ahead of to get to her. Randy didn't seem to have any reservations about this. She wished she could be that relaxed. "I thought I'd surprise you. You've been really tense these past few days."

"Oh?" She tried to smile, unsure of what else to say. She pushed away the obvious response. She'd been tense? Where had he been to notice?

Marcia turned back around and moved robotically through the line, picking up her tray and paying the woman at the end. By the time she and Randy got back to their table, their silence had taken on an awkward edge.

When they set their trays down, the couple was greeted by the sight of Bob and Cherry, also enduring an uncomfortable silence. Marcia began eating, casting subtle looks around the table at her friends. Even just a week ago, she wouldn't have been able to imagine this sort of tension among them. It made her wonder… Was it that Bob and Randy had changed? Or were she and Cherry the ones who were different?

 **…**

Soda's best friend was starting to worry him. Steve had always been a little rough. He was an angry person. And Soda had never begrudged him that anger… Steve had every right to be angry. Most people on their side of town did.

But Steve had never sealed himself off from Soda before, and that made him uneasy. They'd always balanced each other out. Steve took on Soda's troubles as well as his own, relying on pain and anger to keep him going. Freed of his own hatred, Soda was usually able to keep Steve in check.

It was an interesting system—one that few understood, even their friends. There was something to be said about the bond between lifelong best friends. There was no actual magical element to it, though it sometimes felt that way.

But ever since Sandy had left, Soda felt like his light had blinked out. And that seemed to be affecting Steve. Maybe he was being dramatic—he was sure she was overthinking things—but he worried that he'd left Steve in a dark place with no means to navigate.

He felt guilty… But at the same time, he couldn't silence the little voice in the back of his mind asking a very persistent question. Didn't he deserve to feel his own pain once in a while?

He liked his role in the gang. He knew the importance of keeping things light and always having someone around to lean on. But sometimes the more selfish part of him wished he didn't have to be that someone. Why did he always have to be the strong one? When did _he_ get to just relax and give in to _his_ emotions?

"Hey, Curtis! You gonna just stand there all day or what?!" Tony called from the doorway, jolting Soda out of his daze. When he'd gone under, the DX had been dead. Now he spotted three cars waiting for them outside.

He pushed himself off the countertop and headed for the door at a jog. "Comin'!"

 **…**

Marcia had hoped for a clean getaway after lunch. She wasn't quite that lucky.

"Marcia! Wait up!"

She tried not to look too reluctant as she turned around. Randy was rushing down the hallway after her. She stopped and, turning, allowed him to catch up. Once he was by her side, they began walking together, keeping pace with the rest of the students so as not to attract attention.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" he murmured into her ear.

"What do you mean?" Her cheery tone had started to feel increasingly fake. It was almost painful now.

"Come on, Marcia. You've been avoiding me. It's obvious to everyone."

She'd been expecting this conversation, but something about the way he said it just rubbed her the wrong way. Like the real problem here wasn't that their romance was failing fast, but that it was making him look bad in front of his friends.

"It's not like that, Randy. You've been avoiding me, too, you know." Where had that come from? What had happened to the optimistic girl who avoided confrontation at all costs? Her response seemed to baffle Randy as well.

"What, so just because we're together now, I'm not allowed to spend time with my friends? I didn't think you were that kind of girl, Marcia."

The crowd was steadily thinning. The two ducked into an empty stairwell as the warning bell rang. Marcia had never been late to class before, but Randy didn't appear to be in any rush as she stared back at him.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked at last, though she knew exactly what he meant, and the essence of a challenge hadn't left her tone. "You didn't think I was _trashy_ or would _argue back,_ like a _greaser_ girl?"

For a long minute, Randy just stared at her. The late bell rang harshly through their silence, but still neither moved. When he did speak, Randy's voice was quiet. "What is this actually about, Marcia?"

Marcia exhaled, exasperated. "I want this to work, Randy. I don't think we're really the problem… Bob is."

" _Bob_?" She couldn't have caught him more off-guard if she tried. "What does _he_ have to do with anything?"

"He's so hateful," she blurted out suddenly, leaning in with vehemence. "And you act differently when you're with him."

"What? Bob is my best friend, Marcia."

"That doesn't mean you have to agree with everything he does! I know Bob's been going after the greasers! Why don't you stand up to him? He might listen to you."

"Marcia, look…" He trailed off and took a step back, reaching behind him for an escape. "I… have to get to class."

"Randy…" Her tone had morphed into a pleading one. "You don't really agree with what Bob's doing, do you?"

But Randy didn't answer. He just avoided her eyes and pushed the door open behind him. Without another word, Randy slipped into the hallway, leaving her behind.

 **Review please!**

 **I don't own the Outsiders.**


	7. Chapter 7

**There was quite a delay on this one… It felt kind of slow to me, and I struggled not to make Cherry's conversation with Bob identical to Marcia's conversation with Randy. (It doesn't help that I'm really trying to put some focus on an original story—fanfiction's worst nightmare, I know.) I'm really excited for chapter eight, though. I'm having a lot of fun writing Steve and Marcia, whereas I feel Cherry and Soda is going to be a little more bittersweet.**

 **Thank you** Emolichic1, FrankElza, Turned-By-William AKA Spike, **and** Pony'sgirlfriend **for reviewing chapter six.**

 **Chapter Seven**

For a long moment, Marcia remained in that empty stairwell. She listened to the silence as it settled over the hallway outside. She wished she could put a name to this feeling. Their conversation had left her with a sinking feeling. She had to wonder, was this the beginning of their end?

When she first heard the footsteps, Marcia thought she was imagining it. But they got louder and closer, and she peered out the little window and spotted none other than Steve Randle walking down the hall. She jerked back suddenly, but Steve had seen the movement and was immediately on guard.

"Who's there? Come out!" he commanded.

Marcia slowly eased the door open, and the sight of her made him pause. She saw his fists unclench at his sides and the aggression all but disappear from his face. Clearly, she was the last person he'd expected to see, and she couldn't blame him. The sheer number of times they'd run into each other by coincidence lately _was_ pretty ridiculous. But as he finally overcame the shock, his scowl fit back into place.

"'The hell are you up to? Watchin' me?"

"It's not like I was _spying_ ," she defended. "How was I supposed to know you'd be out here? Class has already started."

"I had somethin' to take care of first. …You?" She could hear the wariness in his voice, see the way he was looking at her. She was still on edge from her conflict with Randy, and he could see that something had changed in her. Marcia tried to calm down, speak to him with the civil cheerfulness she'd been practicing all day.

"Well… So did I." She nodded and tried to sound official, unintentionally mimicking her father. But something kept her rooted in place. She didn't want to go back to class just yet, but it was more than that. She didn't think it was crazy to feel like they were having a moment. She wanted it to last. "Um, did everything work out okay with Evie?"

Wrong question. His eyes seemed to get darker as he analyzed her question. At last, he replied, "Yeah. It was a clean break. Haven't really seen her since."

Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and slouched aggressively as surprise took over her features. "Oh… I'm… I'm sorry."

"I'm not." His words were blunt and void of emotion. "So are we done here…"

"What class do you have right now?" she interrupted, effectively cutting him off.

He seemed to consider not answering before he said, "Math."

"I bet you're pretty good at math."

"What makes you say that?" Steve seemed to be doing his best to look confrontational and untrustworthy—more like a hood. She understood what he was getting at. Greasers were rarely the scholarly type. But she decided to go with her gut on this one.

"You're really good with cars, right? All that technology stuff is mostly all math." Kind of a shot in the dark. What did she know about cars or practical skills or… math, for that matter? (She never had been very good at the subject.) But when Steve shrugged, she could see the shadow of pride in his eyes, and she knew she'd hit her mark.

"Yeah," he admitted grudgingly. "What of it?"

"So I have Home Ec right now, which I happen to be acing. We can both afford to skip class for a day, so we should do something."

That was it. She'd officially lost her mind. Steve's expression told her as much. But she couldn't take her words back now, so she grabbed his hand and began pulling him down the hallway.

 **…**

To say Cherry was on edge would be an understatement. This was the only class she shared with both Bob and Randy. Not for the first time, she wished Marcia were here also, although for considerably less lighthearted reasons than in the past.

To start, Cherry had never found history to be particularly interesting. Learn from the past, sure, but focus on the future. She could only take her history teacher's droning lecture for so long. But today she had nothing to distract her. The tense atmosphere between Bob and herself had carried over from lunch, and she really didn't want to deal with that right now. They were in a class full of people, but the way he was watching her, they could have been alone.

Things only got worse when Randy walked in late, clearly ruffled by something. Cherry's mind immediately shot to Marcia again, and she wondered when her world had become so small. She had other friends, really. But lately, her entire life seemed to revolve around Bob's flaws and Marcia's shady behavior.

Bob and Randy whispered fiercely about something for the next few minutes, but Cherry couldn't make out their words. The two boys stopped only when the teacher sent a firm look their way—certainly a light punishment reserved for the school's golden boys. Neither of them seemed able to focus, though. Their tension throughout the rest of class was palpable, putting Cherry even more on edge.

The two boys were the first out of their seats when the bell rang, and Cherry followed at a slower pace. When she made it out to the hallway, Randy was already gone, and Bob appeared to be extremely agitated.

When he saw her, he turned and began pushing his way through the crowd. She felt a prickle of anger at the way he just expected her to follow him, but she did. Cherry struggled to keep up until they found a break in the crush of students and she made her way to his side.

"What's going on?" she asked, wondering if he could hear the hollow quality to her voice.

Bob huffed out something unintelligible before ducking into the doorway of an empty classroom. She leaned against the other side of the doorway, facing him as he vented, "Randy went after Marcia and she started spouting some nonsense about being sympathetic to greasers."

Cherry's heart skipped a beat at the news. She felt like she should have seen this coming, but Marcia had never exactly been the proactive type. If anything, _Cherry_ was the one who'd gotten a bit of a reputation for being outspoken about her beliefs.

The fact that _Marcia_ had been the first to make a stand was… frankly, empowering. And she worried what that meant for her and Bob.

"What?" Bob asked suddenly. She saw the way he was scrutinizing her—almost suspiciously—and she knew her thoughts were taking liberties with her expression.

So Cherry decided, in that moment, that she was going to have a little courage. She squared her shoulders and said, "Walk with me," determined not to have this conversation here, amidst a potential audience of their peers.

Bob followed without protest, though she worried this meant he was saving the real fight. Cherry led him down the stairs, trying to find a semi-private place on the way to her next class. At last, she stopped in the main hallway, just before the front doors. It wasn't ideal, but the classrooms were filling up, so at least it was quiet.

She turned to face him once more, took a deep breath, and said, "Bob…"

"Let me guess," he joked, "you're breaking up with me."

He was trying to keep things light, but she didn't crack a smile. "No, that wasn't the plan… But we need to talk."

His face settled back into its hard expression when she didn't take the bait and drop whatever serious subject she had planned. And Cherry didn't back down.

"I know about some of the things you've done," she accused, and he was immediately on edge.

"Yeah, and what does that mean?"

"You and Randy and Danny and Jeff and _whoever_ else go out drinking and drive around the town, looking for some greaser to 'teach a lesson'!"

"Is that what you think?!" he demanded, bristling. "You think I just go around, beating up random kids?!"

He was offended now, and she worried he was rightfully so. How did she explain that she trusted Ponyboy Curtis's word more than her boyfriend's? How did she explain knowing about poor Johnny Cade without making everything worse?

"Not random kids," she said, standing firm. "Greasers."

Bob was seething in his attempt to make her understand. "You've… Have you ever seen someone after they've been jumped by a greaser?! Do you have any idea what it's like to find your buddy scared and alone somewhere all bloodied up?!"

She couldn't help thinking back to Ponyboy's gut-wrenching tale of the day he and his friends had found Johnny in the lot. Knowing that the boy in front of her, the boy she'd spent countless hours with, was responsible for that…

"Oh, Bob…" she said, quieter now. "You have no way of knowing which greasers were completely innocent. How could you have thought more violence was the answer?"

The ugly expression on his face hardened further when it became apparent she wouldn't budge. "You know what, Cherry? How 'bout you sort out your priorities and _then_ we talk?"

She didn't move as he strode away. She slowly exhaled as she heard the door to the stairwell slam behind him, her shoulders sinking, the tension leaving her body. She took a few slow steps as the bell rang, signaling she was officially late.

But she didn't care. She was mentally and emotionally exhausted, and all she could focus on was the doorway to freedom. So she only glanced over her shoulder once before her footsteps sped up, and she was gone.

 **Review please!**

 **I don't own the Outsiders.**


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